


| - | He Defintely Wasn't Thinking About It | - |

by CrayolaColor



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Gen, Suicide, it's end roll so what do you expect, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 14:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14166456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrayolaColor/pseuds/CrayolaColor
Summary: Russell had never once thought about the consequences of what he had done. Not ever. And he didn't expect he ever would....





	| - | He Defintely Wasn't Thinking About It | - |

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a ''short'' drabble for a thing I was doing on Tumblr but lo and behold when I was done it came out at 1,069 words which is around the average length of the regular oneshots I write lmAO. #Whoops
> 
> Decided I might as well post it here since it came out that long. I hope you enjoy it!!

Russell had never once thought about the consequences of what he had done. Not when he bashed the Zookeeper’s head in. Not when he’d pushed his classmate down the stairs on her own birthday.   
  
He wasn’t thinking about it when he’d taken a box of matches and a can of gasoline and marched off in the middle of the night down the path to the local Church. He wasn’t thinking about it when he watched it as it burned to the ground, and then ran away before anyone else could see.   
  
And no, he definitely wasn’t thinking about it when he granted the good doctor’s request to kill him, to rid him of the guilt he felt from what he himself had done. Not that he understood either. He didn’t know what that felt like.  
  
Nor did he think about it when he pushed the nurse off the roof of the Hospital. She hadn’t exactly asked him to do it, but she was gonna do it herself, so why shouldn’t he have helped?   
  
… .  He didn’t think about it when he came home to find the police lady that had walked him home many a time **d e a d** on the couch. He didn’t think about it when he picked up the beer bottle off the floor.   
  
He didn’t think about it when he smashed the beer bottle over the head of the **d e s p i c a b l e  c r e a t u r e** that had killed her. He didn’t think about it when he did the same to the **m o n s t e r** that claimed to be his mother.   
  
He didn’t think about it when, caked in his parents’ blood, he walked to the police station with his diary in hand. He didn’t think about it when he told the police what he’d done.   
  
He wasn’t thinking about it when, after several weeks in jail, he was taken to a different type of jail. An empty white room with nothing but a bed, a TV that only played prerecorded tapes, and a table with a syringe.   
  
He didn’t think about it when he was told what to do with that syringe. He didn’t think about it when he did it. He wasn’t thinking about it when he was wheeled away into a dream world, one he oh-so-wished was his real life.   
  
He wasn’t thinking about it when one-by-one he met the dream counterparts of the people he killed, learned their names, and got to know who they really were.   
  
He still wasn’t thinking about it when he relived the deaths of the zookeeper and the classmate….  
  
But, maybe he was starting to think about it when he met _**her,**_ even though he really had no idea what she was like, or how she felt about him after her children’s deaths. She probably hated him. Just like she did in the dream.   
  
Maybe he was starting to think about it when he grew closer and closer to the people of the dream world. Maybe he was starting to think about it when the dream world began to fall apart, due to the guilt he was starting to gain.  
  
Oh. So that was the feeling that drove the good doctor to ask to be killed. He was starting to understand.  
  
He was definitely starting to think about it when he took one of his new ‘friends’ to the festival in Seaside. One of the only places left that wasn’t falling apart at the seams. He was definitely starting to think about it when, on the way back, they ran into the dream world’s manifestation of his father.   
  
It was accurate. A monster that revolved around beer- That’s all he had been, and all he would ever be.   
  
He was thinking about it when, after being exhausted from two battles in a row and the guilt he had managed to gain was starting to take hold of him, his ‘friends’ showed so much concern for him.  
  
He was thinking about it when the friend he had brought to the festival walked him home. He was thinking about it when they promised to come back and check on him tomorrow.   
  
He was definitely thinking about it the next day, the final day of the project, when he was tasked with going into the monster’s nest. He was definitely thinking about it when one by one, the friends he’d brought with him disappeared, replaced by realistic replicas of their **c o r p s e s.**  
  
He was definitely thinking about it when he came face to face with his mother, who briefly feigned affection, then showed her true colors. Of course. Why would he ever expect her to love him? 

  
He was definitely thinking about it when Info met him at the exit to the monster’s nest, which had now fallen apart, just like everything else. He was definitely thinking about it when he was told what he had to do.   
  
…… He was thinking about it more than he ever had before when he confessed to Dogma what he’d done. He was thinking about it more than he ever had before when the priest put his values on the back burner in favor of someone he considered a friend.   
  
He was thinking about it more than he ever had before when the dream finally shattered, leaving him back in the blank white room with the bed, the TV that only played prerecorded tapes, and the table with a [now empty] syringe on it.   
  
He was thinking about it so much he couldn’t think about anything else when the lady on the TV told him he was the first ‘success’ in the history of the experiment. Ha. Success? Yeah right. He would never be a success.   
  
He was thinking about it so much he couldn’t think about anything else when he picked up the empty syringe and  _**p l u n g e d  i t   i n t o   h i s   t h r o a t,  p u m p i n g  i t   o v e r   a n d   o v e r   u n t i l   h i s   v i s i o n   w e n t   b l a c k.**_  
  
… Now he definitely wasn’t thinking about it.


End file.
